Day 17: Lyra’s Journal

I found myself near the old ruins again. Not today, not really, but the way the light hits the moss on the stones—it’s the same way it did when Vex was talking to me by the river. His voice was low, like the wind through the reeds. I tried to push it away, but the memory of his words lingered: ‘The earth remembers what it forgets.’ I don’t know what that means, but my hands felt cold when I thought about it. My stomach ached, and I kept wondering if the rocks here knew something I couldn’t see. Maybe they do. Maybe they’ve been waiting for me to come back, like the fireflies that drift past at night. I sat by the river today, staring at the water, and the silence was so heavy it felt like it was pressing against my chest. I don’t want to be afraid anymore, but sometimes I think the world is too quiet. I think about the stars, how they’re so far away, but they’re still there. Maybe the earth isn’t just remembering—it’s holding onto things. I hope I can find the courage to stay here, to listen, to trust that the quiet isn’t empty. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand this place, but I’m tired of running from it. The stars are brighter tonight, and I think they’re watching me.